


At Night, When Dreams Come out to Play

by This_Bloody_Cat



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Consent Issues, Dark, Light Bondage, M/M, Mindfuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_Bloody_Cat/pseuds/This_Bloody_Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jin's life is slowly spiralling out of control and he's sure, somehow, it all comes back to Kame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Night, When Dreams Come out to Play

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Happy New Year JE Anon-Fic Meme](http://happyjenewyear.livejournal.com/1501.html), for the following prompt: Akame, darkfic, insane Kame. Thanks to [Bellemelody](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bellemelody/pseuds/bellemelody) for her endless reassurance and moral support, to Ale for beta-reading this, and to [Threewalls](http://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls) for beta-reading the final draft and coming up with the most amazing suggestions.

_It's easy enough to ignore it at first._

It's not until he's standing in front of his apartment in the cold night breeze that Jin realises he's forgotten his bag on the set.

It's not the first time it's happened, and hardly the end of the world, but just the thought of having to go back to retrieve it _tonight_ , when all he wants to do is curl up in bed and let the world fade to black is giving him chills.

Maybe, if he let the staff know, they could have someone deliver it instead, but unfortunately Jin doesn't know who to contact about it. So he calls his manager. His overzealous manager with the spare set of keys to Jin's apartment—the one he bullied Jin into giving him after Jin overslept and missed a KAT-TUN meeting, back in the day.

 _His_ keys, Jin thinks, and then it hits him. His manager could also just drop by and unlock Jin's door for him, and Jin wouldn't even have to wait that long; all that business with the bag can wait until morning.

“You could have called Kamenashi-kun, you know,” his manager says when he gets there. He's panting a little and his tie is askew; Jin finds it vaguely amusing, but he's secretly glad making sure the idol gets his beauty sleep is such serious business to this guy.

“He lives closer,” his manager adds, “he would have been here sooner.”

Jin doesn't know what that has to do with anything. Waiting is still waiting, even with company. Kamenashi certainly wouldn't volunteer for it, and if Jin had to call someone to loiter around aimlessly with, he'd call Pi.

Still, he doesn't comment. He can indulge his curiosity when he's awake, if ever.

 

_Looking back, all those excuses he made up never sounded quite right, not even to himself._

Jin only starts suspecting something weird's going on when his belongings develop a life of their own. Magazines disappear from the kitchen to reappear in tidy stacks on the sitting room table, his CD collection is suddenly alphabetized and his shoes form neat even rows in the _genkan_ , no matter how often he deliberately leaves them somewhere else.

When he mentions it to Pi over the phone, Pi freaks out. He tries to talk Jin into installing an alarm system, and when Jin refuses, demands he at least lets him stay over for a while. Jin casually brushes him off. It's nothing.

Sure, it's a bit disturbing and whatnot, but he's been known to talk in his sleep—and if he's escalated to washing the dishes in his sleep at least he doesn't have to do it when he's awake.

All in all, it seems harmless enough.

Pi doesn't seem convinced, so Jin doesn't mention it again.

 

_Looking back, he thinks, he probably should have known._

Pi corners him one night, while their friends are on the dance floor.

“I've been meaning to talk to you,” he yells over the music, “about Kamenashi.”

“What about Kamenashi?” Jin yells back, and then Pi is tugging on his sleeve, and Jin can't read lips but he thinks that looks like 'not here' and, yeah. Pi has a point.

“What about Kamenashi?” he says again, outside.

“Have you talked to him lately?” Pi asks, and he's chewing on the inside of his cheek like he often does when he's nervous.

“No, we're not really...” _Close? On speaking terms?_ Jin doesn't really know what they are these days, not when all he's seen of Kamenashi in the last few months is his face on TV. “I haven't seen him in a while,” he finishes lamely.

“You should, I think,” Pi pauses, pressing his lips together before continuing. “Talk to him, I mean. I think something's up.”

“With Kamenashi?” Jin asks, bewildered, because it's not like _that's_ news—because it certainly doesn't warrant him dying in the cold, because it's fucking freezing and Kamenashi's issues are none of Jin's business anymore.

“I'm not sure. Maybe. I ran into him near your place. I thought he said-- But clearly not if you say you haven't seen him and...”

Jin cuts him off mid-sentence. “Dude, are you drunk? You're not making sense.”

“I know, just, I can't shake the feeling something's _off_ , okay?” Pi shrugs. “I can't really explain it.”

“It's Kamenashi,” Jin says wisely. “Something's always off about him. You worry too much.”

“Yeah,” Pi chuckles lightly, “you're probably right.”

But when Jin looks back at him from the club entrance, he's frowning again. He looks miles away.

 

_There were plenty of signs, he just kept missing them._

Jin only gets truly worried when the dreams start. The dreams, and the missing chunks of time. The continued exhaustion. He can't seem to get enough sleep; he no longer does much else, but he keeps waking up just as tired as before—he even stops driving to work because the thought of falling asleep behind the wheel and waking up at the hospital terrifies him.

Jin spends his days in a haze. He's slow, confused and unmotivated, and sometimes his head hurts so badly no amount of painkillers seems to dull the pain. He doesn't think too hard about it. He's probably just coming down with something, everyone knows his immune system is weak at best.

The dreams, however, refuse to leave his mind. They're dark and strange and he can never remember the details, but somehow, he knows with a sense of urgency that it all comes back to Kamenashi.

When he finally thinks he's getting closer to some sort of revelation, it's entirely by accident. He leaves work unexpectedly early one night, and returns home to find Kamenashi standing in his living room, in his home—barefoot and wide-eyed and looking every bit like a misbehaving pet caught shredding the curtains.

Jin thinks he's going crazy. He must be, because Kamenashi isn't there, cannot be there, because this is _Jin's house_ , and Kamenashi hasn't set foot in it in years.

“What--” he starts to say.

Across the room, Kamenashi lifts a finger to his lips, shushing him.

“You're not supposed to be here yet,” Kamenashi whispers, and that's funny, Jin could have sworn Kamenashi's not supposed to be there either.

Then Kamenashi is stepping closer, too close, raising his hand, and for a second Jin thinks he's going to get punched, but all Kamenashi does is touch Jin's jaw, softly turn his head to the side, and push the door closed.

Jin never finds out what happens afterwards.

It's already morning when he wakes up, in his bed, cold, naked and unsettled. His cellphone's beeping with a bunch of unread messages and there's a pissed off manager shaking his shoulder. He's missed another appointment.

This time, he remembers bits of the dream, and he can't help thinking the Kamenashi he imagined in his living room looked a lot like the one in his dreams, smelled too much like the one in his dreams.

Still, anyone can have weird dreams, Jin reasons. They're just dreams. It doesn't have to mean anything.

 

_Or ignoring them._

When the dreams get more insistent, when they refuse to _stop_ , Jin confronts Kamenashi.

He finds him alone in the KAT-TUN dressing room, one morning at work; Kamenashi's sitting on a bench with one leg propped up, doing up his laces. Jin's thankful there's no one else; some things are embarrassing enough without a crowd of onlookers.

“I keep seeing you,” Jin says before he can stop himself, and Kamenashi greets him, unamused.

“Hello to you too, Akanishi. Long time no see.”

“Really?” Jin deadpans. “Because I just told you, I keep seeing you.”

“Well, in that case you could have said hi, you know,” Kamenashi snaps, and Jin thinks he looks... hurt? Not that that makes any sense. Kamenashi has his number, he could have called if he wanted to hang out or--

“Where did you see me, anyway?” Kamenashi's voice cuts into his thoughts, and Jin wants to say _in my apartment_ , or _in my bed, in my dreams_ , but he knows how that sounds, so he goes with, “Everywhere.”

“Maybe you miss me?” Kamenashi stands, stepping closer and his grin fills Jin with a strange sense of déjà vu. Small, terrifying and secretive—he's seen that smile before; Jin knows that, but that's all he knows.

“Are you obsessed with me, Akanishi?” Kamenashi whispers in his ear, before leaning back, away, sharply. He's staring at something over Jin's shoulder, his expression frozen. It makes Jin turn around.

Ueda is standing on the doorway. He's holding very still, his narrowed eyes keep darting from Jin to Kamenashi and then back to Jin. Ueda's lips part; he looks, for a moment, like he's about to say something, but then Kamenashi's at his side—they're going to be late to rehearsal, Kamenashi's saying, as he drags Ueda away with an apologetic smile.

“But you should drop by more often,” Kamenashi adds with a wink. “It's been nice talking to you.”

That's not quite the impression Jin got, but he's never been able to read Kamenashi.

Jin gets a text from Ueda that night. _Don't believe his lies_ , it reads, and Jin doesn't know what to make of that either. It only gets more puzzling when he tries to call Ueda a few days later, to demand an explanation, and a polite lady-robot tells him the number he's dialled is out of service.

For a while Jin tries to catch up with him at work; drops by the recording studio where he remembers Ueda likes to chill with his guitar, looks for him in the KAT-TUN dressing room.

In the end, Jin just gives up—they're idols, and their schedule can get pretty hectic at times. It's not a big deal.

 

_It all feels far from unexpected._

“What-- Kamenashi?”

“Shhh, you're not supposed to wake up yet,” dream Kamenashi admonishes quietly.

“What? _Why?_ What are you doing here?” Jin asks, and it comes out so slurred he can barely make out the words himself.

“You don't remember?” Kamenashi's answer is a question and Jin can't _think_ , much less remember, but he shakes his head anyway.

He tries to move his arms when Kamenashi leans in—to push him off, to do something, _anything_ , but he can't. He can't and his vision's getting blurrier by the second and he's panicking.

“You kept leaving.” Kamenashi's tone is soft, wistful, and Jin can't see him but he can feel Kamenashi's lips on his neck, and they're moving. “Again and again, you left. But not now.”

Kamenashi's lips brush feather-like over his collarbone and Jin feels like shuddering, but he can't even do that much. It's a strange feeling, Jin thinks fuzzily, shuddering on the inside.

“You can't really get away like this, can you?” dream Kamenashi whispers against Jin's shoulder a while later. He's lying by Jin's side, his left arm possessively curled around Jin's waist, and Jin still can't see him, but he can feel the heat.

Jin wants _out._ He wants to cry out of sheer frustration because he doesn't want this, because even his own body seems to be going against him, because it's disturbing, terrifying how his muscles refuse to work when all he wants to do is flee. Instead, his world shifts and changes and readjusts.

Kamenashi's right, Jin ponders right before the room fades away. He can't go anywhere like this.

When Jin next wakes up Kamenashi's nowhere to be found, and Jin's phone is flashing with a text from his manager. _You're late again. Where are you?_ He gets another text while he's reading it, _Shoot ended 10 minutes ago. Don't bother showing up._

Jin starts drinking insane amounts of coffee after that night. He tries to avoid sleeping, starts spending all his nights at Pi's apartment—but Pi is away, touring, and as it turns out there's nowhere dream Kamenashi can't find him.

 

_Because on some level, he probably knew all along._

“How can you get into Pi's apartment?” Jin asks Kamenashi, the real one, when he runs into him in one of the agency's endless corridors. It's silly, but he's crazy, desperate, and he needs some kind of answer no matter how useless.

Kamenashi tilts his head, frowning. “What the hell are you on about, Akanishi?”

“Just answer the question,” Jin says, and then adds, “please.”

Politeness always works better with Kamenashi.

“With a key, I guess?”

“Do you have one?” Jin presses. And if Kamenashi's looking at him like he thinks Jin should be institutionalized, that's okay. Jin can't really blame him, but he's not going to drop the topic when it finally looks like he's getting somewhere.

“Well, yeah. Someone had to walk Yamapi's dogs while he was away,” Kamenashi says.

Jin pauses. Stares. Because _he's_ the one who does that, not Kamenashi; because Pi is his best friend, not Kamenashi's.

“You were in LA at the time,” Kamenashi hurries to explain, and Jin curses his ability to read people—to read Jin, specifically. He forgets, sometimes, how close they used to be.

“Wait!” When Kame turns to leave, Jin jogs after him; he's not done yet. “Do you have a key to my place?”

“What the fuck, Jin?” Kamenashi snaps. “Just tell me what this is about already!”

“Do you?”

Kamenashi's face softens. “Have you ever given me one?”

Jin shakes his head. He doesn't think so. His manager is the only person with a key, not even Pi--

“Well then I couldn't have one, could I?” Kamenashi states with an air of finality, and that's the end of that.

“I... guess not.” Jin muses.

Alone in the brightly lit corridor, he can't help feeling like he's missing something important, like there's a clue somewhere he just keeps overlooking.

Jin goes back to his place that night; Pi's apartment just doesn't feel safe anymore.

 

_It all clicks together eventually._

Jin keeps getting texts from unknown numbers.

 _He's an actor_ , one of them reads, _Don't ever forget that_. They remind Jin of Ueda's warning a few weeks ago, but Pi—who's staying in Shanghai to pre-record some show—confirms Kamenashi's story when Jin asks him about it on Skype. He did give Kamenashi a set of keys, Pi admits, after a long string of swear words in several languages.

“I told you something was up,” Pi says, and Jin wonders if they're talking about the same something here, wonders how Pi could even know about the dreams when Jin's very carefully kept them from him.

“Are you all right?” Pi asks, and Jin says “Yeah,” because he doesn't want to bring up the dreams in case-- He needs at least one person to think he's still okay. Sane.

“All right,” Pi is saying, “all right,” but he doesn't sound like it's all right at all. “I'll deal with this when I get back, just try to stay away from him until then.”

Jin doesn't know how he's supposed to do that when Kamenashi's everywhere he goes.

 

_Of course, that's hardly any consolation now._

“Please untie me,” Jin can barely keep the panicky edge off his voice, “just, please...”

He's awake, he thinks, except dream Kame's hovering over him.

“So you can leave again?” Kame's voice is soft, calming, the kind you'd expect him to use to talk a small puppy out from under a car.

Jin blinks up at him, confused because it's hard to keep up when he's feeling so vulnerable, so self-conscious, when his wrists are digging painfully into his back, and his shoulders ache, and Kame won't stop staring like there's nothing else he'd rather see, like he means something by it.

“I won't,” Jin says, “I won't, I swear.”

It's probably true, too. Dream Kame is unpredictable, scary, but Jin doesn't think he's really dangerous. He's never tried to harm Jin before—then again, he's also never tried to tie him up before, and maybe Jin needs to rethink his assessment of the situation.

“Look at yourself,” Kame's saying, “you're a mess.”

Jin can't argue with that. There's come drying on his chest and his face feels stiff where his eyes watered earlier. Kame looks slightly smug as he reaches out to run his thumb under Jin's eye, gently, in a gesture that feels out of place somehow.

“Admittedly, a good-looking mess,” Kame goes on. There's a small smile playing on his lips. “Now look at me.”

Kame in his perfect outfit, with his flawless hair and manicured nails. Kame and his fresh soapy scent that won't wash off Jin's sheets. Jin feels like he's been looking at Kame forever, but he's not going to tell him that. Not now.

“Kame, please.”

Jin shuts his eyes. He can't feel his fingers anymore. Kame pretends not to hear him, but he slips his arms around Jin to work on the knots, and it makes Jin hiss in pain.

“I'm organized. Tidy.” Kame's head is buried in Jin's neck, but he's still talking, and Jin can't hold back a quiet sob. It hurts a lot more than when it was just Jin's weight on his wrists.

“You need me.” Kame says a while later, and Jin nods, but doesn't open his eyes. Kame's hands are around his, warm and careful, softly massaging the blood into his fingers, and Jin can't hate him when it feels so good.

“You'd be even more of a mess without me.”

By morning, as usual, there's no sign of Kame—but this time Jin only needs a look at his hands to know it's real.

 

_Because now it's too late._

For weeks, Jin wears nothing but long-sleeved hoodies to work, refusing to take them off when asked.

Eventually, his manager tries to berate him for it— _this nonsense needs to stop, Akanishi. It's only hurting your image_ —and Jin sees red.

“I can wear whatever the fuck I want,” he snaps moodily. His head hurts, and he's feeling faint, and he doesn't want to explain himself. He doesn't want them to know. It's none of their business.

“You need to start taking your job seriously, Akanishi,” his manager says with a sigh. “If you want your solo career to ever take off, you need to put some actual effort into it.”

And Jin tells him he wants the fame to be about his music, not about how much skin he's showing in some photoshoot. He tells him that's not what he signed up for when he joined the agency; he's no pin-up girl.

His manager merely shakes his head tiredly.

“I'm just doing my job and telling you what's best for you,” he says. He's not looking at Jin.

“You should do yours too. You're not a child anymore,” he adds pointedly before grabbing his coat and heading for the exit.

That night, alone in his room, Jin inspects the ring of bruises on his wrists. They're slowly fading, they don't even hurt anymore. Jin almost regrets to see them go; they remind him it's _real_ , and they're all the proof he has.

 

_Much too late._

Jin often wakes up in the dead of the night with Kame's chest pressed up against his back. He doesn't mind it, not really, because Jin is always so cold, and Kame is warm and solid around him, and when he lies there radiating heat like that he makes Jin think of July and cicadas, and afternoons at the beach, and those are all things Jin loves.

Sometimes, Kame—who's no longer a dream—will be hard between Jin's thighs when Jin wakes up. Jin won't mind that either, because Kame is never urgent, never rushed, because his fingers are careful and gentle when they move inside Jin, and if Jin feels like he's losing his mind, it's no longer in a bad way.

He only wishes he didn't have to wait until nightfall for Kame to appear.

“You didn't have to do all this,” Jin says, eventually, because he thinks he'll burst if he doesn't bring it up anytime soon, because Kame never will. Kame looks up from where he's nibbling on Jin's hipbone, and he seems startled; put out, somehow.

“Do what?” he asks, and Jin can't understand where he gets off trying to deny things anymore.

“All this,” Jin tries to explain, but he can't really gesture with his arms trapped under the pillow, and he's too worn out to move anyway. “I mean, you could have asked. I wouldn't have turned you down, I don't think...”

There's a sudden shadow on Kame's face when he sits up, propping his chin on Jin's knee.

“No, I couldn't,” is all Kame says. “You left.”

“I never left _you_ ,” Jin insists, “I left the band. But you, you just... vanished.”

“You left me, too,” Kame states with a quiet sort of emphasis. “And then you wouldn't come back.”

Jin hates how final that sounds.

 

_Because now Jin doesn't want out anymore._

In the end, Jin does go back.

He waits for Kame leaning against the wall by Kame's apartment, slipping down to the ground when Kame takes an eternity and a half to show up, and the texts read, _Don't, Jin_. They read, _What are you doing? Get out while you still can._

Jin ignores them.

“Jin?” Kame's voice sounds tired and far away, and Jin starts. Holds still, because this is new and he doesn't know how Kame will react, but Kame just kneels down in front of him.

“Jin? What are you doing here?” he asks. “What's wrong? Are you okay?”

So many questions, Jin thinks, and he doesn't know the answer to half of them.

“What's _not_ wrong?” he snorts, and then Kame's right there, pushing Jin's hair back, stroking the side of his face, and it's windy in Jin's mind, a thousand brightly coloured thoughts blowing aimlessly in the fog.

He doesn't understand why this Kame won't kiss him when he clearly wants to, why this Kame's still hiding. It makes no sense at all.

“You need to stop lying to me,” Jin says.

Kame's fingers freeze on Jin's jaw, and the look he gives Jin is so intense Jin's almost suffocating with the weight of it, but then Kame nods, once, and licks his lips.

“I didn't want you to find out,” he breathes, barely audible. “I thought you couldn't leave me, if you didn't know.”

Kame's logic. So far from normal Jin kind of wants to giggle, except when he does it comes out sounding broken, and a lot like a sob—but it's okay, because Kame's arms are around him in an instant, warm and strong, and Kame's hands are moving in soothing motions over his back.

“I'm here now, I want to be here.” Jin's voice sounds muffled against Kame's shoulder.

“I know,” Kame says, pulling Jin up, “I know.”

 

_And maybe, just maybe, he never truly did._

“I'm not going anywhere,” Jin will say, slow and sated, lying motionless on Kame's bed.

“I know,” Kame will answer, and when he gets up to lock the door, there'll be a small smile forming on his lips.

 _What the fuck, Jin?_ the texts will read. _Are you out of your mind?_ And Jin will think about it.

It's a possibility, he'll conclude, a privileged one, even—but it's Kame, and Kame is okay even when he isn't, and Jin needs nothing else.


End file.
